


She who broke his heart

by WoodiestComic



Category: Doctor Who, Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Character Death, Crossover, Episode: s07e02 Dinosaurs on a Spaceship, Excited Sherlock, F/M, Gen, Greg Lestrade is John Riddell, Heartbreak, Sad Greg, Sad Story, Sherlock - Freeform, Time Travel, Time traveling Greg Lestrade, doctor who - Freeform, egyptian history
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-07
Updated: 2016-10-07
Packaged: 2018-08-19 23:41:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8228731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WoodiestComic/pseuds/WoodiestComic
Summary: John brings Sherlock and Greg to the british museum. What was meant to be a walk down memory lane and a fun time with his friends quickly turn into a reminder of loss and heartbreak for Greg. In which Greg Lestrade is John Riddell and is reminded of his wife Nefertiti, whim he will never see again.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry if this is badly written. It is currently 3 am as I am posting it and I just finished writing.

It was a nice day in London for once. The sun was shining, the temperatures were agreeable and no wind was ripping at their coats or stealing people’s hats. Which was the sole reason Greg had allowed himself to be pulled along with Sherlock and John to the British museum. John had apparently found out that Sherlock had never been there, and on a whim decided to bring Greg along.

It wasn’t as if Greg didn’t like going to the museum, after all he hadn’t made a protest when John had come with the idea as much as he’d just shrugged his shoulders. In fact, Greg enjoyed the museum quite a bit. It was a trip down memory lane for him, though none of his friends knew that. It was a part of his life he had left behind when he first came to the twenty first century.

He loved seeing the old roman statues of people he’d once met and talked to (albeit sometimes not under great circumstances), and see coins he’d once used to buy fruit in the market of Pompeii. Streets he had walked before they had been flooded and animals he’d hunted before they went extinct thousands of years before he was even born. In fact, he still had that dinosaur necklace lying in a box in his flat. Greg Lestrade had met painters of great works of art and fought old knights all while trying to save the world. If Sherlock had known that part of his life, he would probably have deemed the DI more interesting.

Yet he didn’t go there often. In fact, he’d only been there once in his life. It was the Egyptian edition that always turned his stomach. Seeing the old coffins and statues always made his chest clench.

So Greg had decided to avoid that part of the museum as best he could. Which turned out to be harder than he’d originally thought. For as it turned out, Sherlock was enjoying himself quite a lot. He was rushing through the museum taking in the information faster than what John and Greg could comprehend. On more than one occasion Sherlock had been standing impatiently by the doorway to the next part, tapping his foot in annoyance while he waited for his “slow” friends to catch up.

Greg was mostly just looking at the different artefacts, not bothering to read the labels and information. What was the point when he knew exactly what had happened? But the paintings and carvings and sculptures were a good reminder of his little adventures back when he had been younger.

“Dammit Sherlock, hold up!” He heard John half-shout, and looked to find that Sherlock had once again swiftly abandoned them for the sake of learning more. Greg looked up at doorway to see what came next and came to a rushed halt. Right in front of him was the doorway to the Egyptian section. He could already see the familiar coffins and ancient pictures carved in stone on the walls. John must have caught on that something was wrong when he found that Greg was no longer next to him.

“What’s wrong?” He asked after turning around to see his friend pale and wide eyed.

“I just… I…” Greg stammered. How was he to explain it? How could he tell John that he didn’t want to go into the Egyptian section without sounding like an idiot?

“Greg, are you alright?” He heard John ask again, more concerned this time.

“Yes! Yes, I’m fine. I just… not really interested in old Egypt is all” He said quickly. Honestly, he didn’t know why he even bothered. John could see he was lying from a mile away.

The doctor opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off by an irritated shout from Sherlock:

“Come on! We haven’t got all day! This is the best part yet!” And thus the detective disappeared behind a pillar once again, fully expecting his companions to follow him without question.

“We’ll lose him if we don’t hurry. And god knows I don’t want to go looking for him in a place like this” John commented, giving Greg a reassuring smile. “If you want, we can be quick” And with those words, Greg allowed himself to be led away into the familiar palace-like structures.

It was going better than Greg would hope. He and John quickly caught up to Sherlock who was in the middle of explaining carefully and detailed the steps of mummification to an eight-year-old girl. He had just come to the part where they would cut out the most important organs and place them in clay jars, expect for the brain which was scrambled and thrown away, when they found him. The girl seemed to be listening carefully as Sherlock illustrated the removal of the brain.

“Sherlock” John said warningly, but was dismissed. Greg couldn’t help but smile at John’s angry scoff and Sherlock’s excitement as he rambled with information. It wasn’t until he’d finished that he paid them any notice. And even then it was just a quick glance.

“Did they really put them in salt?” The girl asked, her eyes wide in awe. Sherlock nodded in reply. The girl grinned before rushing off while shouting “Nana! Nana, you’ll never guess what they did to the Egyptians!” and disappearing into the crowd.

“Shall we get going?” John asked. Sherlock stared at him as if he had grown a second head or an extra limb.

“But this is the most exciting part! I’ve read about old Egyptian lore and customs ever since I was a child! For example; did you know that the Egyptian made a special pudding they placed on their head and let melt over their bodies in a warm room. It was their version of perfume” He said, waving his arms around like he could at a particular interesting crime scene. John rolled his eyes. _Stings the eyes_ , Greg thought to himself, remembering all too well his quick trip to Egypt.

“Yes, well there are more things to see, and Greg isn’t very interested in Egypt anyway. The Percian history is right up here. How about we take a look there instead?” Greg really appreciated what john was trying to do for him. It wasn’t a secret that the doctor had an eye for when something was bothering people, and he would always do his best to help. And Greg knew how hard it was to talk to Sherlock once he was excited about something.

Just as Sherlock was about to reply, a tour guide walked by, followed by a large group of tourists of all kind.

“And if we move over here, we see the famous queen Nefertiti” Greg’s heart stopped completely. He hadn’t heard that name in years, not since he first visited this museum when he first came to twenty first century London. He felt a lump start to form in his throat, getting more painful every time he tried to swallow it. And to his horror, Sherlock’s face lit up and before either John or Greg could say anything, he rushed over to join the group. John sighed before he followed, leaving Greg with no choice but to follow as well.

“Here we see the iconic bust of Nefertiti which dates back to 1345 years BC and was discovered in Berlin in 1912. And as you can all see, it is beautifully crafted. It has become the icon of Nefertiti, who is now mostly known for her beauty. And over there you can see Nefertiti’s coffin. Now, the interesting thing about the coffin is that it was empty when it was found. According to ancient hieroglyphs, the queen disappeared only a few years after she had taken on the throne along with her husband Akhenaten. The coffin was presumably made in memory of Nefertiti as she received a proper burial despite not being present herself. Moving on we have here the statue of Bastet…” Greg didn’t pay much attention to what was said after that, and didn’t even notice the group of tourists leaving.

All he could do was stare at the statue trapped behind glass. His heart ached and throbbed painfully in his chest. The lump in his throat seemed to have grown and to his own horror, tears were starting to form at the corners of his eyes. Yet he couldn’t look away. The statue was so… so wrong. It was directly ugly compared to the beauty that had been Queen Nefertiti of 1000 BC’s Egypt.

“They got it all wrong…” He muttered, more to himself than anyone else. Sherlock was standing next to him, seemingly captivated by the statue until he heard Greg speak.

“What?” John questioned, brows furrowed.

“Nefi… they got her nose wrong. And the eyes were much bigger, and her years too” Greg found that he just couldn’t stop. He couldn’t care to stop. This didn’t look anything at all like the Queen Nefertiti he had met. The queen he had fallen in love with.

“And her neck wasn’t as long. She wasn’t a bloody giraffe for god’s sake” A single tear rolled down his cheek, and he found it was too much effort to wipe it away, so he just let it linger. He could practically hear Nefertiti’s laughter ringing like church bells on a Sunday morning.

“Greg, are you alright mate?” He heard John ask, snapping him back to reality. Greg shook his head, blinking away the tears in his eyes. Both Sherlock and John were staring at him, Sherlock’s eyes narrowed whereas John’s expressed concern and worry.

“Yeah. Yeah I’m fine. I just… she reminds me of someone I met once…” And without further to say, he hurried past them, practically jogging past the coffin displayed behind glass. He didn’t want to look at it. Not after what had happened.

Sherlock and John were whispering something behind him, though he didn’t care to catch their words. He just wanted to get out of there, out of the museum. Thankfully, John and Sherlock didn’t question him, although he could see it in Sherlock’s eyes that he wanted to. John must have talked him out of it.

Later that day when he was finally alone, Greg left his flat and went to the store down the street, grabbing a bouquet of the most beautiful flowers he could afford before he got in a cab. It took him to a place he hadn’t been in for years, even before he came to this century.

The graveyard had been built in the late 1800, and in 1912 Greg had buried his wife, Netalia Riddell, in the outer corner. Now he stood above the grave, bouquet in his hands and at a loss of words. Should he say something now? He hadn’t when he’d first started shovelling the dirt over her wooden coffin all those years ago. Again he could feel that same lump in his throat and the gnawing in his chest as if his heart was trying to rip itself to pieces.

“It should have been me, you know…” He mumbled out loud, trying to imagine that his Nefi could hear him, wherever she was. “It should have been me to die that night Nefi. Not you… never you. Hadn’t you saved my life enough times, huh? Hadn-hadn’t you done enough good for one life time…” He trailed off, taking a deep, calming breath. His voice was shaking now, and warm tears rushed down his cheeks in small steams.

“I was your husband, dammit! How could you leave me like that!” He shouted as a sudden anger flared up inside him and he threw the bouquet of flowers down on her grave. A move he instantly regretted as flower pedals exploded from their breaking stems. He got down on one knee quickly, trying to scrape it all back together again.

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry” He mumbled over and over. His breath hitched in a choked sob and he brought his shaking, dirty hands up to his face to cover it, cover his shame. He should have saved her… he should have done something to save her, not let her push him out of the way.

She had always been so proud of her ability to push him around and manipulate him to do what she wanted. Greg smiled at the memory of her seeing snow for the first time. How he had tried to give her his jacket, but she had insisted that she was fine.

“You were always a strong woman… never letting anyone talk you down. That’s my girl” He whispered to the gravestone. She really did deserve the Egyptian funeral she had been given without her knowing. Not this pathetic old stone and a small coffin that got covered with dirt and a few petty flowers. She deserved to be layered with gold and jewels and be surrounded by treasure.

“There was nothing you could have done, John” He heard a familiar voice behind him. Honestly, at this point he wasn’t even surprised. He straightened his back, brushing away his tears like he always did when people got close enough to see him cry.

“It’s Greg now. Greg Lestrade. I’m a detective inspector in Scotland yard not-”

“You will always be John Riddell the explorer, to me” The Doctor cut him off. He hesitated for a moment before he said: “And to her…” Greg got up, still not turning to look at his old friend. He let out a small giggle, trying to hide the pained cry that escaped his lungs at the same time.

“Bloody woman couldn’t even let me die… had to do something stupid and save me” He mumbled angrily, though it was only half hearted. He could never really be angry at Nefi. Not his Nefi, the most beautiful woman to ever walk on sand. The most kind-hearted and self-sacrificial girl with the most beautiful laugh and heart-breaking sobs.

“You would have done the same, John. She loved you” The Doctor said calmly. He could always be so damn calm, even in the most dangerous or sad moments.

“Yeah… yeah I would’ve. I could have, if you would have just held the door open for a few more seconds” He snapped, finally turning to glare at his companion. Though he didn’t manage to keep it up. Seeing that face brought up too many memories of Nefi laughing and rambling about how excited she was to see the future and the stars and distant planets they had never heard of. His face fell back into a pained expression, and he turned away again. He didn’t really blame the doctor. Not as much as he blamed himself. It was his job after all, to take care of and protect his own wife.

“Natalia Riddell. Good choice of name. She would have liked that; you using your brain” The Doctor said instead. Greg let out a small laugh, remembering how Nefertiti had always made comments about how he always acted before thinking.

“Couldn’t very well write Nefertiti, Queen of Egypt. People would definitely ask questions” He replied.

“Not that you would be around to answer them…” Said the Doctor. Greg didn’t reply, instead letting an awkward silence fall between them. The sun was beginning to set behind the Tower of London, and it was suddenly dark and cold. Though the DI took no notice of it.

“Why are you here, Doctor?” He asked suddenly. The Doctor bit his lip, trying to find the right words.

“Well. I knew where to find you. I was just wondering if maybe you’d like one last trip. Nothing big, of course. I know you have work you need to go to these days, but maybe something small. Like a quick trip to the moon or maybe that market on Bandraginus 5 we talked about before… well…” The Doctor didn’t finish, but Greg noticed how his eyes trailed over Nefertiti’s gravestone with a sorrowful expression.

One last trip… see the stars. The moon would be nice. He had only been there once right before the moon landing in 1969. He and Nefertiti had wanted to leave an impression, but the Doctor had refused them with a speech about paradoxes and things meant to be. Maybe one last trip would be good for him. See new things and maybe even put all this behind him.

No… no it wasn’t right. It wouldn’t be the same. Not without Nefertiti there to laugh at his clumsy mistakes or to make everything right again just by pushing her plush lips against his. All the stars in the world didn’t matter when the only star in his life was lying six feet under ground. Going off with a madman in a blue box wouldn’t be the same without Nefertiti’s excitement or laughter. He shook his head.

“No, sorry. It’s not the same without my Nefi… I can’t” the Doctor’s face fell, but he nodded his head in understanding.

“Can I at least take you home? Save you the money of taking a cab” He offered. Greg thought about it for a few seconds. He was short on money these days, and going to the museum with Sherlock and John hadn’t exactly been cheap.

“Well… alright. Thank you” He said. The Doctor gave a small smile that didn’t reach his eyes before he turned, motioning for Greg to follow him. The DI cast one last glance at the grave, now with a broken bouquet of white roses leaning against the gravestone. He kissed his palm, placing it on the grave and pretending that it was Nefertiti’s face before he turned and followed the doctor.


End file.
